The Defender

This evening a hawk swooped across the backyard, landing on a fence post near the pussywillow bush and sunflowers. It wasn't a red tail and was larger than a sparrow hawk but I haven't had time to get out the Audubon book and identify it. It was graceful, swift, and focused. Wondering what caused his arrival, we looked but couldn't see anything of interest. However the next second he dove into the center of the pussywillow and dozens of goldfinches exploded from the thick branches and leaves of the bush. We were familar with a few goldfinches visiting the birdbath and we knew in the fall they relished the sunflower seeds. We thought we were blessed with about 4 or 5 of the vibrant chrome yellow and black birds, never imagining an entire flock resided close by. Just as suddenly as the hawk appeared, it flew up and away. Challenged by the neighbor's four pound Chihuahua who barked and charged all the way across the yards, the hawk took flight. Piggy, as we call him, is four pounds of dog with eight pounds of bark. He's utterly fearless and his purpose in life is to protect the neighborhood from intruders. For his effort he received a bite of grilled chicken. So now I'm pondering the sequence of flowers ~ thick bush for cover ~ abundance of birds = arrival of hunter. The circle of life and beauty of nature is not all quiet and pastoral. Aggression exists. And the defender need not be the biggest and the mightiest force. It may arrive in the form of a tiny creature with a big and strong heart.

i'm still here

i'm still here though it's been 4+ months since my last post. spring has come and gone and summer is drifting into autumn. my daylilies were glorious and the Russian sage softly sways on the edge of the garden. the sunflowers are towering and the birds daily circle above in anticipation of the abundance that awaits.

my font is huge today, for after this long an absence there isn't much to write. though busy outdoors all summer it seems summer has passed me by. i want a summer to spend wandering. to the Outer Banks and then up to Maine. across the Dakotas to the Oregon coast. down to New Mexico and the Gulf of Mexico.

i long for the slower days of winter when i can quilt, make soup, watch movies and READ. but for now i work, thankful i am still strong and healthy enough to do so but with anticipation for the crisp days of autumn and time for myself.

90% vs 10%

90/10...a ratio I was considering today when considering the way I submerge myself in life.

Yesterday I attended the first of a 3 day quilting retreat in my hometown with the Dear Jane quilters. Instead of staying at the hotel and committing 100% to the experience I opted to return home at night; 90% in and 10% out of the experience. Instead of setting up my sewing machine and committing 100% to a project I instead dabbled at 3 projects and accomplished probably 10% on each one, leaving a 90% deficit.

It seems I'm always flying on the edge of experiences, keeping one foot securely grounded. That anchor that is always present keeps me from submersing myself 100%. So, instead of being saturated with color, experience, possibilities I build a little wall that keeps me "safe" but actually causes conflict because I'm not all the way IN, only 90%.

So today I'm packing up my sewing machine, bringing my new project which I'm not enthused about but thought I should do, and sew my little heart out. This evening is the annual "show and tell" and I have two projects I did commit to 100% and will present them with 100% enthusiasm.

spring budding

The temperature exceeded sixty degrees here yesterday. The pussywillow bush several days ago was budding full and furry. Today it is morphing into soft green leaves. From the kitchen window the bush looks tall and full against the wide spring sky. It is a sentinel of this season and the next.

Close up, touching the soft velvety catkins, the new growth of spring is the essence of renewal. But one thing is missing. The bees are missing. Every other year the bees would be busily visiting the bush, hovering and working. But not this year; not one single bee came to dance with the pussywillow.

I feel a sadness with their absence and also concern that every season we may have one less garden visitor. Will the hummingbirds come? Will the butterflies grace their special bush? What about the dragonflies...lightening bugs...goldfinches?

The silence of the absence of the bees carries a lot of questions. Who has the answers?

i don't know, i just don't know anything anymore

i just don't know

Only three and a half months since my last blog...oh, well. Perhaps this will be a quarterly posting schedule instead of the every day event I imagined when I began. Perhaps this is "quality time" blogging?? I don't know anything anymore except that I don't know anything.

Just take everything in your brain you thought you knew, put it in a good old brown grocery bag, shake it up, dump it out, and see if anything makes sense. Maybe I do still KNOW stuff; maybe it's just that nothing makes sense anymore. I don't know. See? I just don't know anymore.

If you can make sense of this, good for you. For I just don't know...

friday night

Ah, good old Friday nights. Not quite what they used to be if you're an old granny. No pacing for the '57 or '65 Chevy to come into sight and up the drive; no basketball games in the high school gym; no sock hops. Remember sock hops? Soooo much fun. This Friday night the wind is howling, my flannel pants and long fleece top are snuggly, my James Welch book the perfect reading this cold December night; and the now-balding driver of the old Chevrolets is softly snoring, tucked in his warm blankets. If the roads stay clear so my grandbabies and their parents are able to drive for their holiday visit tomorrow, all will be well in my world. Think I'll have a nice hot caramel drink, see what happens next in Welch's Fool's Crow, and hope the Great Spirit has more mercy with us than we Europeans had with the native people here. Blessings to all as 2007 winds down.

babystep #2

Well, it's only about six weeks since my first blog entry. Christmas has come and gone. This was an especially peaceful Christmas this year. A thick cushion of snow quieted the outside world and my inner world was peaceful as well. When I noticed the dreaded 'ghosts of Christmas past' had not visited me yet, I invited them in, but thankfully they only stayed fleetingly and without any power this year. So the cookies were baked, the pumpkin pie too, and turkey this year was a capon drowned in white wine and paprika. What all this means, I haven't a clue, except perhaps as I get older I am focusing on what is truly meaningful in my life. I do look forward to 2008!